I sat at the dining table, the penthouse quiet because I didn’t listen to music or the TV while I worked. I preferred total silence because anything else was too distracting. I stared at the blank Word document that was untitled at the moment…because I didn’t know what to call it.
I usually picked a title after I wrote the book, but I knew my publisher wanted that sooner rather than later. Why did I decide to publish that first book when I barely had time for anything else?
I stared at the blinking cursor before I started to type.
A minute later, Emerson texted me. Looking good…
I stared at her message for a while before I picked up my phone and typed back. You can see me type?
Yep. And I like what I’m seeing.
I smiled as I heard her voice in my head, my personal cheerleader. She had been a total stranger months ago, but now she was the person who ran my life, pushed my boundaries, convinced me I could do anything.
By the way…I’m still waiting for you to sign those books.
I put them away because I couldn’t think of something good enough to say. But then I’d forgotten about them after I found out about Lizzie. They’d left my mind completely. Want to make sure they’re good enough for you.
Just your autograph is good enough for me, Derek.
I stared at her message and saw the dots disappear. I suddenly felt her absence hard in my chest, felt lonely in that penthouse by myself. I didn’t need her help anymore, but I wished she were seated at that table, like old times. Times like these made me frustrated with the parameters of our relationship, that I couldn’t have her in the evenings like other relationships. I never woke up to her beside me. We couldn’t really go anywhere.
And it would probably be that way for a long time.
I had to remind myself that I wasn’t the most important person in her life, that I would always be second best. That was how it should be.
But it still sucked, nonetheless.
Her message popped up. I’m sorry to interrupt you. Get back to it.
I just miss you…is all.
I stood at one of the tables with Jerome and Pierre, brainstorming the ideas we had for the new rover, the applications that would provide dramatic improvements to the vehicle that would be working on Mars for over a decade at least. “I have a question.”
Jerome stood with his arm across his chest, looking at all the different applications on the table.
Pierre glanced at me, still a little standoffish but much better than before. “Yeah?”
“What if we come in later on Wednesdays?” It had nothing to do with the project we were working on at that moment, but it was sitting in the back of my mind, a problem that didn’t have a solution.
Jerome lifted his chin and looked at me. “Like, we get to sleep in?”
“Yeah,” I said. “We start at ten instead of eight. And we stay two hours later.” I could work until the wee hours of the night all I wanted, but I needed their contributions for stuff like this. If I could do it all by myself, I would, but I simply couldn’t.
Jerome rubbed his chin. “Does this include free dinners?”
“Sure.” I could have Emerson drop something off before she left for the day. And if a free meal sealed the deal, I didn’t care if the company paid for that.
Pierre shrugged. “It would be nice to get a couple more hours of sleep on Wednesdays…and there’s no football that day of the week.”
“I’m in,” Jerome said.
“Me too,” Pierre said. “Especially since all my meals are comped.”
Jerome turned back to me. “Why the schedule change?”
I looked back at the schematics and stepped closer to the table. “I just have another obligation on Wednesday mornings.”
“So, you want to start tomorrow?” Jerome asked.
“Yeah,” I said. “If that’s not too short of notice.”
Pierre moved back to the table and started to jot down his notes. “Works for me.”
I had a stack of all my notes beside me as I continued to work at the table. The guys had already left, so it was just me—like usual.
The front door opened, and Emerson walked inside, a nice feminine touch to this industrial environment. The guys didn’t just like her because she was nice to look at, but because she brought us lunch and kept the place organized. It used to be a catastrophe in here.
She approached the table and looked at the stack. “Need copies of all these?”
“If you don’t mind.”
“Not at all.” She grabbed a crate and started to pile everything inside. “How many copies?”
“Two. One for me. The other for the main office.”
“Got it.” She continued to set everything inside, careful not to mess up the order. “I liked the chapters you wrote. I thought being a part of the writing process might ruin the story for me, but you’re that good of a writer.”
She already had the job and she already had me, so her compliment was genuine, but even then, I didn’t know what to say in response. “I need you to schedule the housekeeper later tomorrow, and every Wednesday from this point forward.”
She stopped stacking the papers in the crate so she could look at me. “Why?”
“I want the penthouse to myself until ten.”
“Oh…are you working from home?”
“No.” I set down my pencil and abandoned my work for the evening. It was time to go home, enjoy the small window of time I had with her. “I thought we could get breakfast and spend some time together.”
Emerson stared at me like she didn’t understand a word I said. “I don’t understand… You have work.”
I shrugged. “I’d like to spend more time with you. And I know having a few hours in the evenings isn’t really an option for us, so…”
“Derek… That’s so sweet, but I can’t let you lose those hours at work. I can work something out with my family to spend some extra time here later in the evenings. Please don’t rearrange your schedule for me.”
“It’s just a few hours, baby. And the guys already said it was fine. We’ll work a couple hours later on Wednesday. I think they mostly agreed because they’d get dinner for free.” I smiled slightly because that was just how men were, me included.
“You told them to work late so you could spend time with your girlfriend?” she asked incredulously.
“I didn’t say it like that…”
Guilt moved into her gaze, like she truly felt terrible for the change in my schedule. It was all happening because of her daughter, something she shouldn’t feel guilty about. She was just being a good mother, not running off with some guy and leaving her daughter to the care of her grandparents.
“It’s already done. Don’t worry about it.”
“My job is to make your life easier, not more complicated.”
“And you do that—as my assistant. And your job as my girlfriend is to make me happy—and this will make me happier.” All my free time was maxed out working, so I didn’t see the harm in taking a few hours for myself once a week. “I thought we could go to breakfast. That can be our weekly thing.”